


War's Maven

by AgentKitsune



Series: Stories from the League [1]
Category: League of Legends
Genre: Bonding, Canon-Typical Violence, Drabble, Emotional Love, F/M, Fluff, Gen, headcannon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 13:19:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1429963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentKitsune/pseuds/AgentKitsune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Together they disappeared. The Valoren Maven and the Shadow Isle Reaper, clasped hand in hand. Now the most unlikely friends in the Halls of Justice. Hecarim knew only one thing. Woe be to whoever harmed his songstress."</i>
</p><p> </p><p>(Considered completed due to drabble-status, but will be added to.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To start of the collection, this drabble was written by RekinWolfblade (his summoner name). Enjoy!

                They were all locked in and summoned. Again Hecarim was forced to ally himself with the living at the whims of the Summoner’s. His only reprieve was his lane partner, Thresh, a denizen of the Shadow Isles like he was. The rest of the team were fairly normal picks. Nidalee, Xin Zhao, Teemo. Not really a good team, but Hecarim would have to suffer through it.

                His hooves thundered as he charged down his lane, grass and rock crumbling beneath his metallic hooves. This caused the birds and smaller animals in his fiery wake flee from the trees, as a slow mist crept behind him, shadowing the rest of the lane. Thresh was somewhere behind him. Would it have killed the Warden to buy a pair of boots? He drew forth his scythe and charged forward. The enemy’s foolish Summoners had pushed too far ahead of their turrets already. Hecarim redoubled his speed as he felt the fresh surge of energy come from his Summoner. He raised his scythe to bear as a figure appeared ahead of him. He was stopped instantly as a pair of blue eyes locked onto him. His scythe caught half-swung and landed to rest delicately on the soft creamy skin of the singer. He had seen her before. Her strange music was as dangerous as it was beautiful. She had never started the battle here before, though.

                Her eyes bore into him, showing no fear at all as she stared him down. She was playing a healing song; he had recognized it as being epically annoying in fights. He heard that song and his opponent’s wounds simply closed. Wounds that Hecarim had tried so hard to cleave into the flesh (or metal as the case may be with that fool Mordekiser). Part of him considered doing what he always had. The Maven’s blood would spill later just the same anyway. Hecarim heard the dragging of the chains behind him. He didn't have much time. Still the Maven’s eyes did not portray fear of any kind.

                Hecarim raised his scythe and slammed it down quickly beside her, the grass parting as he did. Slowly he pushed her into the grass, raising a single metal claw to his steel fangs as he did so. But he was too late. Thresh's sickle lashed forward to catch the Maven. Hecarim instead twisted quickly and grabbed the weapon in his hands. Pulling the Warden closer and twisting his own scythe, with a quick cleave he had decapitated Thresh. The Warden’s clothing fell as his soul pulled free from his body. He would be back shortly, but it was enough time. Hecarim turned towards the Maven again. She looked startled. She raised a single eyebrow at him and pointed at the discarded husk of the torturer. Hecarim shook his head, his deep ghostly voice barely a whisper.

                "Go, before more come. Return to the lower forest." The Maven cupped his cheek slightly, her etwahl playing soft music that almost comforted the Reaper’s heart. It would have soothed him, but even in small acts of kindness, the rider had no heart to soothe.

                He turned and trotted back to his turret, standing guard and waiting for Thresh. He would have some explaining to do later. For now however he was fixated on the Wukong and Darius striding towards him. Someone would need to pay the blood price for him releasing the Maven.


	2. Chapter 2

                Hecarim pranced in place. Hooves gouged the ground as he shifted in impatience. The match had already started, but he knew it was wise for at least a few minions to catch up with him. They would draw the attention of the pesky turrets. His motions caused the flames of his Reaper form to sway around his head. He hadn't taken a close look at the others that had been summoned alongside of him; the moment it was possible, he had darted from the home base. Since he hadn't been held back, his Summoner must be as eager as he was. That was good. He liked being given slackened reigns.

                The first wave of minions scrabbled about the path. Some tumbled around his legs, and Hecarim allowed it for a moment before moving ahead. The creatures soon scattered away from his firm steps. It only took a moment to spy the first turret. The minions laid into it with gusto, drawing its fire. Hecarim's jaw angled itself in that seemingly impossible way as he smirked. He lifted his scythe and brought it whistling down upon the tall statue. After only three strikes, he heard rapid motion. Not footsteps, but a rush similar to water. Spinning about, he discovered what Champion was trying to bear down on him.

                It was a rare wave of panic that made him back up a step and brace. Hecarim had only met her once outside of the matches, but he was not fond at all of Lissandra. The constant cold she emitted made his body ache to the -visible- bones. Not to mention the personality, as if she was already lording something over them. Growling, Hecarim pushed off his back hooves and lunged for her. Lissandra cackled as a wave of ice met him. He managed to break through. The shatter of the ice cut down along his flanks, digging into his armor. Enraged, he spun his scythe around himself. Creating a quick sphere of lashes, he drove her back.

                "It will end in ice!" Lissandra hissed, lifting her arms. Before Hecarim could take the open invitation of her torso, a ring of stone and ice rose around him. Panicked, he bucked up then kicked back. He managed to make an opening to get out, but he felt sluggish. Cold orbs of energy were thrown after him and he sharply turned. With a lunge, he darted along Lissandra's side. His scythe swung outwards and tore into her. With a screech, she twisted to face him. It was soon enough out of the gate that neither Champion had enough time to build up more defense or offense, so right now it was a matter of who struck faster.

                In the case of speed, Hecarim would boast that he always won. It only took a few more dashes until Lissandra let out a shriek and fell to the ground. Releasing a sound between a human growl and an equine snort, Hecarim dug a fore-hoof into the dirt where she had vanished. Unfortunately, the temporary victory hadn't been without its problems. Ice shards were melting in the presence of his dark flames, but they left open sores in his form and energy. There had been a clash of the small minions, too, leaving him alone. He would have to back up a bit, wait for another minion-wave before tackling the turret safely again.

_'Chime'_

                Hecarim's head shot up. The strum of strings was a brief punctuation of sound. Shifting his weight, he turned around to see what was behind him. His empty sockets flickered with fire in his version of a blink. He had seen this Champion-type before, when darting around to assist others, or quickly cleaving them from the other team before they could fulfill their role of Support. Hell, he had even seen this one. Mostly in those flashes in a battle- she seemed to keep to herself outside of them. Her dress swirled about where her feet must be, inches above the ground. He wondered if she ever actually walked.

                Sona tilted her head at him, then strummed her etwahl again. Hecarim checked himself, seeing his wounds seal over without a trace. Even his weariness had lifted. He looked back at the Maven. She considered him a second, then closed her eyes and smiled, chin tilted up. It was -dare he use the word- cute. She kept smiling, but didn't say anything. Ah, now Hecarim remembered- she was a mute. Shame, she likely would have been a good singer.

                Shaking his head, Hecarim turned around. More minions were arriving, and his Summoner was starting to send orders again. When he heard a faint chime, however, he stopped. Sona was watching him now, fingers poised over the strings of her instrument. She strummed another note, healing him further. Curious, Hecarim took a few steps forwards, a slow walk. Sona drifted a little closer. He did it again. She followed.

                Skull angling in its bizarre way, Hecarim essentially lifted an eyebrow at her. The Maven was going to Support him? How odd. No one had bothered recently, finding he was too difficult to keep up with. He found it a bit of nonsense; even if a Support needed an extra minute to catch back up, he could hold just fine until they got there. Actually, he was quite sure he did fine without to begin with. Snorting, Hecarim turned and followed his Summoner's urging to the turret. When he got there, he attacked instantly. Upon the final few blows, he heard a faint musical scale. The strikes fell faster. Realizing what had sped him up, he checked.

                Sure enough, Sona was floating a bit behind him. Hecarim leaned down to be at her level. Her blue hair swayed when she tilted her head at him in return. It was rather novel, a Support wanting to try to follow him. It would make his trips down the lanes last longer, having extra healing. But he didn't have much practice protecting someone. Would she still come back after a failed encounter?

                "Think you can keep pace?" Hecarim grumbled at last. Spinning about he darted forwards in a sudden canter. He just knew Lissandra must be lurking at the next point, and he'd be happy to give her a rematch.

                It was only a few seconds after he found the icy witch did Sona re-appear. The Maven adjusted her grip on the etwahl, and strummed harder. More energy flowed through Hecarim, healing him. Lissandra hissed in anger. When she tried to go for the smaller Champion, Sona frowned and slammed her hands on the strings. Lightning danced around them and propelled her back. Amused, Hecarim forced his way between them and lunged in. It was when Lissandra fell for the second time did he realize how much faster his attacks had become. The Maven's near-constant song had done more than he thought. He laughed in grim satisfaction, pawing the ground, taunting where his enemy's body had lain.

                Hecarim nearly jumped when a blaring guitar cord rang out. His head swung about. Sona was grinning, her instrument tucked under one arm. As if to answer his question, she played the sound again. How on earth did she do that?

                More importantly, he supposed, she had followed him anyway. Not a match to his speed, but willing to try. And certainly willing to increase his stamina for the fight. Slowly smirking, Hecarim made his decision. He could feel his Summoner's confusion about why he was taking so long to press forwards. Rearing up and turning, he slammed his hooves down, facing the enemy's side of the path.

                "Well then, Maven! Hurry!" Laughing, Hecarim charged ahead. Judging by the playful scale chimed out behind him, Sona would be by his side again soon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another drabble from Rekin!

                Why had she come here at all? What had she hoped to find among these twisted trees and tainted grounds? She didn't even know if he would be here, let alone if he would remember her. It was a dangerous play to be sure. This was not the fields of justice. Here, Death would be very real.

                She glided along the cracked paths, over top of discarded bones and tangled roots. The land itself seemed as dead as the inhabitants who came here. Still, Sona pressed onwards. Her goal was an abandoned town just a short while further into the dark woods. Her boat-men had refused to come onto the shore, sending the Maven instead to trek among the muck and insects alone. Even the very trees seemed to smile at her with dark intention.

                The path became thick and nearly impossible to walk, lucky the Maven had always preferred to float on the currents of music from her etwal. Something had started to feel off a few minutes before. As if the Maven was being watched by several pairs of eyes.

                Sona's breath caught as a spider, easily the size of a dog, crawled across the path before her. It was massive and hairy. She clenched her fists and would not be deterred. She looked back over her shoulder, attempting to be sure that the large arachnid was not following her. That was when she fell into the trap, a massive sticky web caught around her wrists and ankles, forcing her to fall over. Her etwal fell from its usual place hovering before her and was dragged into the shadows above. Whoever it was who had captured her knew full well who she was. A female voice rang out, silky and smooth. Accompanied by the sounds of skittering and clattering. Sona's heart dropped when the tall lithe figure strode into view from behind a tree. Two legs standing _demi-point_ e on thin red spikes with several other legs tucked behind her.

                "What have we here? So far from Damacia aren’t we my little Maven? What has brought you to the darkness of the Shadow Isles?" Elise strode around her, making mock motions to attempt to hear her. "Not answering is rude you know!" She slapped a single clawed hand across Sona's cheek. A thin trail of blood fell down the Mavens cheek, causing her eyes to water.

                Elise was one of the more cruel inhabitants of this place. She delighted in the fear of her prey almost as much as that terrible warden enjoyed torture. Sona would not give them the satisfaction of her tears. She would not sway, even if they killed her. She had made her choice to be a warrior the moment she had arrived at the institute of war. She closed her eyes as she felt the spiders crawl along her warms towards her face. Elise rested a single finger on her chin.

                "Now now darlings, we cannot eat her yet. Mommy always gets first taste...you know that." Elise's mouth split at the lower jaw, a terrifying mandible about to lunge at Sona. She was stopped when a roar sailed over the forest. It was metallic and deep, throaty and almost wet. Elise seemed to recoil slightly, as did her spiders. "Hecarim! No! She is mine! I caught her!"

                Hooves seemed to sound from all directions. Sona swore this was the first time she had seen a nightmare actually afraid of something worse. Elise's eyes darted from place to place. Attempting to find the source of the pounding echo.

                "HECARIM! DO NOT! SHE IS MINE TO DESTROY!"

                From behind the spider queen came the loudest roar of all, followed only by the appearance of the spectral rider as he slammed into the spider queen. His scythe slashed at Sona's bonds quickly, letting the Maven drop. Tucked under one of his arms was her etwal.

                Hecarim looked at Elise and smiled his grim smirk. He twisted his scythe backwards and slammed the blunt end of it into her face, causing her cheek to split and a sickly green liquid to pour down her porcelain face. Hecarim roared before swinging the maven onto his back and rushing out of the forest. His hooves pounded heavy against the ground, causing Sona to jar and almost fall off more than once. Her only salvation was to continue to hold onto his shoulders for dear life.

                A female screech sounded behind them, Sona looked to see a larger spider, this one the size of Hecarim himself chasing them. It was Elise. The spectral rider roared and redoubled his speed. There was no Summoner to assist him this time. Sona pulled her Etwal from Hecarim’s grasp. The rider seemed pleased with this and continued to run. Sona turned in her seat and began playing cords, first a song to boost Hecarim’s speed, then finally quick bursts to throw Elise off their trail with tendrils of cutting music.

                Shortly after they had escaped and were riding into desolate ruins. Hecarim deposited Sona on an open alter and began to pace back and forth, his breath heavy in his chest as he did. Sona looked up to him and gave a shy smile. Sort of a;

_‘Sorry.’_

                Hecarim looked at her.

                "Sorry. You're sorry? You came to the Shadow Isles to see me, were almost killed by Elise who I am now going to have to placate and you are 'sorry'?"

                The Maven recoiled as if stricken, she hadn't figured he would be angry. They had been working together a lot lately, she had sensed something from the rider. Hecarim seemed to lose his anger almost as soon as it had come. His raging blue flames cooling to a dull cyan instead and receding back inside his armor. He sighed lightly, his face relaxing as he spoke.

                "What in the world are you doing here anyway? You could have been killed. The living are not supposed to come here. You’re going to ruin my reputation at this rate." It was true, Sona had been the only one so far to ever see Hecarim display any sort of kindness or compassion. Something about the Maven brought out kindness in the reaper. He couldn't help but almost feel human again around her.

                Sona pointed to him and smiled.

                "You came to see me? What would you have done if I was in a match? What would you have done if it had been Thresh who had caught you? Or Yorick! Spiders are easy to destroy, but I cannot run 6 feet under if that grave keeper buried you alive!" He strode towards Sona and grabbed her hand in his. "I appreciate you coming here for me. Yes, I'm glad to see you. But you must never again come to the Shadow Isles."

                Sona looked hurt. She pulled her hand free of Hecarim’s metallic grip and pulled her hands inwards towards herself. Hecarim sighed slightly.

                "Don't do that Sona, you know full well that I don't feel sympathy." It was, of course, a lie. Perhaps Sona's music had affected him differently than he had anticipated. For now he was beginning to feel again. Beginning to desire the presence of living flesh. Even if it was only Sona's he craved.

                Sona looked over her shoulder at him. Light tears streaking her cheeks. Hecarim felt something catch within him. He knelt on one knee of his four legs, letting his body fall slightly.

                "Sona, I..." She turned quickly and grabbed hold of him, her cheek pressing against the metal of his armor. Hecarim let his scythe fall free from his grip. Something was wrong, He felt, warm? Sona rested her head against his and smiled. Her eyes met his and he felt a kinship with her. Of all the worlds to meet, he had found a friend. Among the living and in the softest soul, he had found someone who actually desired his presence.

                Hecarim was about to speak when his scythe started to glow and pulse just as Sona's etwal did. They were being called to a match. He looked to the Maven and returned to his full height. Sona kept his hand clasped in hers.

                "Come on, let’s kill something before I get weepy." She placed a finger on her mouth and chuckled, though the sound came from the harp instead of her.

                Together they disappeared. The Valoren Maven and the Shadow Isle Reaper, clasped hand in hand. Now the most unlikely friends in the Halls of Justice. Hecarim knew only one thing. Woe be to whoever harmed his songstress.


	4. Chapter 4

                There were few, rare places the Champions could congregate without intruding on individual homes. This was favored in particular by those who didn't want to cross boundaries and risk the anger of certain individuals, but still wanted to find another denizen. They were more likely to appear there after a Match had finished, or if they were looking up information. Hecarim rarely lingered here, so he understood why he was being stared at. What he was staring at, though, was even more unusual. In fact, it made him clench his jaw- to suppress laughter.

                Thresh finally came stomping towards him, lantern swinging wildly from his hand. He scowled up at the taller Champion. Though he didn't interact with many, there was a small handful, and Thresh tended to be one of them. Some people joked it was the flames.

                "Laugh it up." Thresh snapped, waving a loose fist, his chains rattling. The source of his apparent ire was currently out of sight, but she had been there earlier. Sona, the Maven, had been drifting around after him. Even though the Match was clearly over. The songstress, like many Champions, had a select few she stayed close to. She had her own darker moments, the same as anyone else. However, for a little while after a Match, she tended to follow the main person she had been helping. Maybe it was a Support quirk.

                Hecarim had to admit it was amusing, depending on who she followed. Like Thresh, who was visibly riled up. Despite his outward annoyance, Hecarim could tell the Torturer wasn't quite as angry as he would lead people to believe. He recalled Sona actually following Lissandra for a minute one time, and the ice witch -new to the area- had been utterly confused. That had been good for a chuckle.

                "I am. On the inside." Hecarim said mildly, smirking. One of his hooves idly dug a small furrow in the grassy ground. This group-area had more grass and greenery than he was used to, compared to the Isles. It was an interesting change of view. If that view included the amusing antics of his fellow Champions -or a chance for a tousle- he would indulge.

                "Thought it might bother you." Thresh huffed, but he was now smirking as well. When Hecarim angled his skull at him, there was a sly laugh. "Isn't she 'your' little shadow?" Hecarim frowned. He knew Thresh was digging at the fact he and the Maven had often been in the other's company. Even when they faced each other in battle, she had risen to the level that few had- that there were no hard feelings afterwards. Some Champions refused to talk to another for days after a Match. For a moment, Hercarim debated getting in a jibe in return. Sona had sometimes followed Thresh around more than others after a fight. Between them, and the band Pentakill, she certainly had an affinity for the darker Champions.

                "Hardly." Settling on that answer instead, Hecarim looked around the small crowd for where Sona had gone. A lot of their recent matches together had felt of a familiar ease; one that gave him leeway, and one that let Sona emote as she pleased. He wondered if there were two Summoners who knew one another that kept selecting them. Frowning, Hecarim shuffled in place. He couldn't spot her blue hair anymore. Had she gone into one of the buildings? Thresh chuckled under his breath at the actions, but wisely held his -flame- tongue. Looking away from the rider, he blinked several times. Then, his jaw parted and bent in a wide smirk.

                When Thresh's lantern bounced off his flanks, Hecarim scowled down at him. The Torturer merely laughed and plodded away. Wondering what had gotten into him, Hecarim looked where Thresh had been. His torso straightened in surprise.

_'Chime!'_

                Sona was smiling. At his surprise, her shoulders shook and her etwahl let out a shivering scale on its own. Her version of giggling. Hecarim blinked. He knew there were other appearances they could mask themselves in. Certainly, he was wearing one of his own. This was the first time he had gotten a close look at one of Sona's. The most drastic difference was the hair. The style almost made her look a bit smaller. Bending his upper body to get a closer look, Hecarim tried to remember what this was called. Greek Muse? He was sure it was just Muse. Sona reached up and patted a pale hand against his shoulder. Her instrument made a medium ring as she smiled apologetically. She hadn't meant to startle him.

                "You changed after a Match?" Hecarim decided to ask. Sona nodded and looked down at herself, twisting her hips to make her dress move. It was a bit more revealing than her usual attire. Some Champions might make a leery comment, but Hecarim merely noted how it changed her silhouette. He'd have to keep it in mind in case a Summoner used this appearance in a Match. That way, he'd know it was her approaching.

                Glancing up, Hecarim noticed a few lingering Champions were staring. It was unclear if it was because they were an unusual pair, of it was the Maven's new attire. Either way, he had enough of the eyes. Straightening fully, he kept his scythe to one side as he trotted around Sona. She turned her head to watch him in puzzlement, but kept still. Hecarim's other arm reached down and wrapped around her waist. There were surprised murmurs when he put her on his back. The etwahl drifted around to float by her again, ensuring it would go with them.

                With a glare daring anyone to comment, Hecarim trotted away from the area. On his back, Sona set her fingers to the strings.


	5. Chapter 5

               Hecarim rarely went to visit other domains, knowing full well the reception he'd receive. It didn't stop him from, 'patrolling' the borders, keeping the Champions on their toes. Distrustful and fearful looks were common fare to his walks. It was on one of these strolls, near one of the common areas that many Champions met at, he found Sona. At first he almost missed her. It was only the glint of her instrument floating above the ground that had him look again. Hooves shuffling, he backed up and turned towards it. The etwahl didn't have the Maven directly behind it, which was unusual. Worried something had happened, he scanned the area. Nothing but grass, a few rocks, trees in the distance, more grass, Sona sprawled out...

               Oh, there she was. Coming to a stop, Hecarim looked down at her. She was laying on her back in the grass. It was a wonder he hadn't noticed her sooner. She was back in her usual appearance, but the amount of flowing fabric stood out from the dark green of the grass. It was a bit of a novelty to see her in contact with the ground. It was something many Champions teased her about, if she ever used her feet. Obviously she sat or leaned on things, but Hecarim had never seen her walk. Even the day she had almost gotten caught in his domain, her dress had been bound around the bottom, not actually showing bare ankles.

               The etwahl rang out a few inquiring notes. Sona had opened her eyes, blue-green looking up at him curiously. Huffing, Hecarim shifted his weight and bent his four legs. They folded under him and he settled onto the grass. His hands folded loosely in front of him as he looked around. Often he had been in Sona's company, a thing far more soothing than he ever could imagined. Or that he could even be soothed. Considering Sona, Hecarim's skull angled in a smirk.

               "Strange to see you on the ground, Maven." Sona rolled her eyes in reply, expression speaking volumes. Despite her disability, there were plenty of ways for her to communicate. Facial expression, body posture, and, most of all, music. "I don't think I've ever seen you walk on it, though," Hecarim teased, "who knows if you even have legs under that dress." The fire of his tail swept along the grass. It didn't burn, but some of the blades darkened in color. He looked around, wondering if anyone else was out here. Sona was selective of her long-term company, as many were, but it was unusual to not see her at least vaguely close to another Champion. Even if she didn't seek them out herself, others from the same Domain seemed to always try and keep an eye on her.

               There was a light prod to his armor. Hecarim tucked his chin and looked down. A pale foot was resting on his chest. The toes wiggled. A giggling scale played from the etwahl. The foot led to an ankle, then a shin, then a knee. Anything above that was covered in folds of fabric. Sona smiled at him, tilted to one side to be able to reach him. Then, making a show of it, took a handful of her dress and tugged, lifting another layer. The second leg was pointed up into the air. A pause of silence. Hecarim tilted his head. Sona lifted both eyebrows.

               Multiple layers of harmonies rang from the etwahl as Sona rolled back and forth on the grass, greatly entertained. Her legs kicked, tangling her dress around her knees. Hecarim shook his head, but a crooked smile shifted his jaw. It was a good thing that no one was around. Champions were getting used to seeing them together, but it'd be hard to live down how relaxed he was being. He'd have to decapitate someone to make up for it.

               "Alright, that dispels that myth." Hecarim said dryly. Sona settled on her back again, legs bent. Her flailing had made the front layers of her dress slip a few inches above her knees. Hecarim merely noted this with a bit of detachment. He knew Sona was eye-catching, lovely even, but that was all. Though, if anyone else got too bold towards her, well, it would be a good excuse to brawl a bit.


End file.
